


Friends of the ABC Daycare

by waitingtobelit



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack, Daycare, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-11
Updated: 2013-04-25
Packaged: 2017-11-25 02:12:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/634016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waitingtobelit/pseuds/waitingtobelit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fantine, Valjean, and Javert run a modern day daycare in which the Friends of the ABC are enrolled as well as some other, familiar faces. Revolution, liberty, and the pursuit of cookies. Chaos ensues. Modern AU. Pure crack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I entirely blame Julia, Allie, Emilie, and twitter for this madness. One cracky conversation spiraled into another and here we are. For now this is a one shot, though I know I'll probably be writing more of this verse later. Hopefully you enjoy!
> 
> This is mostly based on the recent movie, with characters and details from the book interwoven.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Les Mis. This is purely for recreational purposes.

 

    The Musain Daycare, though small and tucked away in a more obscure corner of Paris, echoes with the voices of small children. Some are singing. Some are angry. Some are smearing red and black paint all across the windows by the entrance. And still others are stealing toys from one another, earning nineteen minutes exactly in time out. Five for what they did, the rest because they wouldn’t sit still.

  Fantine isn’t pulling out her own hair yet, but her lips are pursed and her eyes hang heavy on her face. Her pretty, yellow sweater is stained with chalk and her skirt is tattered at the edges. In her arms, a struggling Bossuet yowls as she holds him away from a sobbing Feuilly.

“No, Bossuet we do not push others out of the wagons when we want a turn. No, I don’t care that Grantaire said he would knight you if you did, you could have seriously hurt him!” She turns her desperate eyes on Valjean, one of her assistants, who is currently prying a screeching Azelma away from an impish Joly and his collection of “doctor’s tools,” or permanent markers.

  “But I had to fix her, she was gonna die!” The toddler bursts into giggles at Azelma’s face, the red and blue streaks turning into rivers through the multitude of her tears.

  Valjean comforts the sobbing girl while trying to explain to Joly that he gave her the wrong medicine in his calm and patient voice. He does not so much as glance back at Fantine, as she mutters, almost-swears, under her breath.

  Bossuet meanwhile is clambering to escape her arms. She tightens her hold of him as he squirms and whimpers. “But I wanna play with Combee and ‘jolras!”

  “No. I’m taking you to time out.” She tightens her grip around his waist and carries him over to the corner, settling him with several other delinquents of the moment.

  “Put Bahorel’s bottle down, Grantaire.” Javert, the other assistant, is currently staring down a five-year old Grantaire at the snack table. Grantaire smirks as Javert glowers, taking a large swig of the milk with the careless grace of an alcoholic.

“I said put the bottle down, young man.”

  The five year shrugs in a rebellious gesture, igniting the teaching assistant’s ire.

  “Are you mocking me? I am the authority here. The authority is not mocked!”

   The child appraises him for a moment with his wild eyes, his brown curls hanging still as he waits. Javert takes a step closer and Grantaire pounces, snatching the star pin on his jacket almost without effort before running away haphazardly, much to the newly rediscovered delight of Feuilly

    Javert gives chase immediately as Enjolras rolls his eyes at the entire scene from across the room.

  The blonde child sits with Combeferre and Courfeyrac, lording over the pair of them with his make-shift flag of the apple-red jacket Combeferre lent him. For a six year old, his expression is gravely serious. He informs his companions that, unlike some of their peers, they don’t have the luxury of playtime because they are planning a revolution. A revolution for more cookies and less naptime.

  “Every kid to his duty-”

  Courfeyrac and Combeferre both snicker. “You said _duty_!”

   Before Enjolras can even waggle his finger at them, a small ginger child abruptly topples into him from behind.

   “Hey, watch it!” Enjolras pouts at the other boy, who clutches an embroidered napkin (“It looks like toilet paper ew gross,” Courfeyrac mumbles) in his tiny hands and an instant admiration in his wide eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” Marius stutters, taking a step back in alarm, dropping the napkin in his haste. Enjolras picks it up as though it were covered with spiders before tossing it behind him, where Feuilly has recently crawled.

   The younger child picks it up, eyes brightening almost instantly

  “For Poland!” He mutters happily to himself before passing out, hugging the material close to his small chest.

   Meanwhile, Marius stares at Enjolras in a mixture of fear and awe, as though he were a shiny new toy that he wasn’t allowed to play with just yet. Previously, he had been following around the little blond girl, the one everyone knew as the Lark for her untouchable hide and seek prowess.

   The Lark, or Cosette, presently sits by the window playing dolls with a dark haired girl in a blue bonnet known as Eponine. The boy loses himself as they giggle and dance their dolls together. Fantine, at last reprieved of her previous charge, hands them both two of the most glorious chocolate chip cookies he has ever seen in his short life.

   The boys behind him mutter jealously as Enjolras prods him to the point where he almost hurts him.

  “Girls are gross. They have cooties.” With all the benevolence a six year old can muster, he reaches down and helps pull the newcomer to his feet. “Join us for the right to nap freely and more cookies.”

  “Cookies before girls.”

  “Girls’ will make you icky!”

 “More cookies?” Marius now looks upon his new companions with an expression of absolute wonder. Enjolras smiles back with the assurance of a god who’s gained another devoted follower.

  “Cookies and no naps for everyone,” the blond child nods, as Courfeyrac offers Marius a sip of his apple juice. He accepts eagerly, delighting in the last few sips of the drink.

   Combeferre and Courfeyrac both grin at the conversion of this newcomer before jumping on him in unison, burying him under a pile of flailing limbs and curls. Marius squeaks in response before Enjolras drags him out from under them in pity. It’s only a few seconds more until they’re all caught up in each other again.

  “One of us, one of us!” They all four shout and squeal and generally prance about, the joys of newfound friendship quickly going to their brains. Grantaire and Bossuet pout at them all from time out, as Cosette and Eponine cast matching, disdainful glances over at the ruckus.

  Fantine, Javert, and Valjean all stand before them suddenly, donning mutual looks of anguish and determination like armor. Fantine, front and center, calls out the most dreaded words known in the daycare.

  “All right, students. Nap time!”

 

\---

 

  An hour later, the Musain Daycare is in utter shambles.

  Chairs broken, toys smashed and cookies stolen are only the minor causalities. Grantaire escapes the prison of time out to snatch an abandoned apple juice, accidentally stepping on a wayward doll in the process. He does not make it across to join his fellow playmates, instead falling victim to Cosette and Eponine, both of whom now tug on his hair and scratch at his face for breaking their favorite toy.

  Valjean attempts to break them apart only to have Bosseut and Feuilly snapping at his feet. 

   Fantine dodges the red playdoh Courfeyrac tosses at her with ease as Combeferre yells profanities a five-year old has no right knowing at her. She doesn’t bother sighing because there is no point in lamenting the 24,601st student revolt that morning. She picks up Combeferre over her shoulder and carries on. One down, at least ten more to go.

  Behind her, Javert is closing in on Marius, who has Enjolras on his back after promising him his loyalty by becoming his most trusted steed. Marius grows more tired by the minute but he refuses to let his new friend down.

  “By the stars above, you will both go to the nap mats, or so help me-”

  “Vive le France!” Enjolras shouts, red-jacket flag held high above his tiny curled head. Marius joins in the shouting the best he can with his friend on top of him, his face reddening more and more.

   Cosette, finally bored with tormenting Grantaire, walks by the pair of them, pushing Enjolras face forward into the carpet with a giggle before running away. Eponine comes up behind her and pushes on Marius’ rear with a triumphant laugh.

  Javert wastes no time and soon has both boys, one under each arm, as he makes his way to the bookshelves, where Fauchelevant, the most recent teaching assistant, has prudently already set up the mats.

  “Liberty! And cookies. But liberty!” Enjolras sniffles and kicks to the best of his ability.

  “I want my grandpa!” Marius flails, his nose scrunched up in a wail.

  “I have heard such nonsense every day for twenty years.” Javert huffs as they struggle more. “Save your tears.”

 

\---

 

   In the end, Fantine, Javert, and Valjean between them wrangle all of the boys and Azelma onto the mats. As Grantaire at last closes his eyes, draped over Enjolras and Marius both, Fantine sinks onto her own chair at her desk, face in her hands, while Javert and Valjean both head outside to “take a breather.” (She desperately envies the unlit cigarettes dangling from their hands.)

  Beyond the bookshelves, in a world free from sleep, Cosette and Eponine remain, munching on the plate of cookies they stole from Fantine’s desk and dressing up their second favorite doll.

  “Ponine?” Cosette helps pin the doll’s hair into a bun as her friend fits her into a lovely yellow dress.

  “Yes, Sette?” Eponine pauses as the blonde girl gestures to the sleeping bags across from them.

  “Boys are dumb.”

   Eponine nods sagely and bites into another cookie.

   “Dumb as bricks.”


	2. Poetry Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roses are red, violets are blue. The child Cosette likes to watch Jean Prouvaire go red in the face. A drabble set within the "Friends of the ABC Daycare" universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I may enjoy writing these characters as children way too much. This is definitely not the last you'll see of this AU from me.
> 
> So I already posted this in my other drabble collection but I just realized it would make more sense for me to put all of my drabbles in the Daycare verse in one place so here you go. This chapter will stay in my other collection too since it's already there, but from now on any and all Daycare fic will be uploaded here as well as my Tumblr.
> 
> I like to think Cosette and Jean Prouvaire would have gotten along well had they ever met in life. Anyway, this is a follow up to my "Friends of the ABC Daycare" story, but you really don't have to read that to understand this drabble. Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Les Miserables. This was written purely for recreational purposes.

A quiet little boy with auburn hair, Jean Prouvaire sits at one of the tables in the corner of the classroom with only a piece of paper and a red Sharpie for company. The rest of his friends are plotting yet another revolt in the back corner with teddy bears and toy trucks, but Jean is happier here. His right hand scribbles away furiously as he chews on his lip in concentration. He does not hear the approach of tiny, delicate feet behind him.

“Oh, whatcha doing Jean?” Eponine leans over his right shoulder. He yelps and desperately tries to cover his work, but Cosette’s nimble hands prove too quick for him as the paper disappears out from under his trembling arms.

“Give it back!” He shouts and flails as Cosette backs away, holding his prize above her head and reading it.

“Roses are red, violets are blue?” The floral carpet does not ease the awkwardness of hearing his words spoken aloud the way Jean hopes. He glances up to find the two girls staring at him and Marius scowling at him from the back of the room.

“Is this poetry?” Eponine asks, her nose scrunched up in confusion. Jean prays to God for the carpet to swallow him whole.

“I like it.” Cosette smiles at him as she hands it back and Jean thinks he now knows what love is. He shyly pushes the paper back into her grasp.

“You can keep it, if you like.” His whole face feels on fire as her blue eyes brighten and Eponine looks between them in confusion.

Marius gapes at them, not even wincing as Grantaire tosses a teddy bear at his head.

“Thank you,” she says as she leans in quickly and kisses his cheek before giggling and striding away with Eponine in tow. Jean can only watch them leave as he grips the back of his small chair to keep from swooning.

Marius’ face contorts into a thundercloud, his tiny fists clenched by his side. Enjolras, approaching him rapidly with a scowl of his own, grasps his face and all but shouts “NO!” at him. The other boy can only pout as Enjolras possessively drags him off by the hand.

“But Cosette, I thought we agreed that boys are dumb,” the other girl protests loudly.

Cosette looks back and catches Jean’s eye with another smile as he feels his heart drop to his feet.

“He’s the excep, expec.” She shakes her head and tries again. “He’s the only not dumb boy here.”


	3. Field Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Fantine draws the short straw, Grantaire is a tiny wretch, and Enjolras is the worst influence. Otherwise known as a field trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have way too much fun playing with these characters as kids. This one is partially based off of real life experiences. Particularly the cow parts.
> 
> Just a note: This isn't a fully formed, multichapter story. More of a collection of one-shots set within the same universe. 
> 
> Also, thank you to everyone who takes the time to read this. I appreciate it. :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Les Miserables. This was written just for fun.

  Mondays come too soon as it is, but a Monday on which the daycare has scheduled a field trip all but barges into her like a convict seeking refuge from the law. Fantine briefly looks down at the shortened straw in her hand as Javert and Valjean gather their charges in their respective corners. Her colleagues’ luck comes from God above, she thinks, or they just plotted so that they could both avoid the fate she can no longer escape. She watches as her daughter and Eponine giggle in delight as Valjean speaks to them through a doll. She can almost forgive him until he meets her gaze with a sympathetic twinge that doesn’t quite hide the spark of laughter lying underneath. Damned better for him if he just kept looking down.

  “Honest work, keeping your hands to yourselves. No pulling of hair. That’s the way to please the Lord.” Meanwhile, Javert is preaching to his little group that includes Jean Prouvaire, who keeps sneaking glances at Cosette with a blush, Joly and Azelma. All of his charges appear suitably intimidated by him, though Joly stares at his hat with something akin to reverence. Deep in her heart Fantine prays he finds some way to knock it off.

   A loud yelp brings her attention back to the group of children at her feet that includes Courfeyrac, Enjolras, Marius, Grantaire, and Combeferre, essentially the worst students in the entire daycare. God help her poor, unfortunate soul.

  “Ms. Fantine, Grantaire keeps pulling my hair!” Enjolras pouts, an expression she finds quite often on the little hellion, as the other boy tugs on one of his blond curls. “Ow! Make him stop!”

  “Grantaire, that’s enough!” She picks up the darker haired child and holds him tight as he brings his carton of apple juice to his mouth with a wicked smile. Before he can even so much as take a quick sip, Fantine takes it away and places it on his desk. His face crumples up but she ignores him. “You will be on your best behavior today or so help me you will stay on the bus, understood?”

  The now sullen child nods miserably and Fantine sets him down. Not even two seconds later he is toddling off to join Courfeyrac, Combeferre, and Enjolras, all of whom have the Pontmercy child by a different limb between them.

  “I saw him first, he’s _my_ friend,” Courfeyrac declares, tugging on Marius’ left arm.

  “You can’t have him, he’s my best soldier!” Enjolras stomps his feet as he pulls on Marius’ right arm, now with Grantaire’s help. The poor ginger child looks around bewildered, his lips trembling and his blue eyes wide.

  “You’re all wrong! He belongs to Poland!” Feuilly, her other charge, comes from behind to grab Marius by the neck and the poor child yelps in pain.

  “Children, that’s enough!” Fantine steps in between them to gently tug Marius away from their demanding grasps. “You can all be Marius’ friend later. We need to get on the bus now!”

  “I’m not getting on the bus!” Enjolras says, his arms crossed against his tiny chest. “That bus works for the king and eats kids like us for breakfast, Bossuet told me so!”

  “Me either!” Marius squirms from out her grasp to go stand by his friends, folding his arms across himself in the same manner as Enjolras.

  “Nor me!” Courfeyrac and Combeferre speak in unison, and Grantaire just smirks at her, the little bastard.

  From across the room, even Javert is almost smiling for once in his life. It’s enough to make her glare and wish for him to jump off his high horse straight into hell.

 

\---

 

   An hour later, they finally make it to a local farm out in the French countryside. After a bus ride from hell in which Enjolras and his gang refused to sit down, recruiting even her normally behaved Cosette in their attempts to march down the aisles, waving that damn jacket flag above him, Fantine felt she could breathe again as she stepped out into the open air.

  “Welcome to the farm, children!” The owner, a gentle, old woman by the name of Mrs. Paget smiles at them with the benevolence of an angel as she shows them to their first part of the tour. “I hope you enjoy your time here!"

  “I hope none of them fall into the mud,” Fantine mutters as they all separate into their groups and begin to split off. Beside her, Valjean smiles as he walks away. “Please God. Just this one last favor.”

 

\---

 

   God has selective hearing, Fantine thinks. Over in the stable which houses the cows, Feuilly slips and falls into a pile of manure mere seconds after her group enters. In his flailing spiral downward, the scrawny boy manages to grab a hold of Grantaire’s sweater sleeve, pulling the boisterous boy down with him, much to Grantaire’s dismay and the rest of the group’s amusement. Fantine shrugs off her own jacket to wrap around the two victims while apologizing profusely to Mrs. Paget for the mess.

  But of course, that is only the beginning. Feuilly and Grantaire’s mishap shapes the rest of the day.

   Marius, somewhat benevolent child that he is while not under the influence of Enjolras, pets the head of a large cow, smiling to himself. He pets the animal with as much reverence as though it were a flower he was plucking for a girl. Enjolras watches wearily from a distance, eyeing the cow almost spitefully.

  “Ew!” He shrieks and leaps away seconds later as the cow licks his proffered hand. He cowers behind Enjolras as Grantaire, Feuilly, and Courfeyrac double over in laughter.

  “Marius and the cow, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” Grantaire claps his soiled hands together in particular delight.

   “Stop it!” Marius pouts, “I would never! Kissing gives you cooties!”

   “And now you have cow cooties,” Grantaire nods sagely, wearing that same smirk from earlier that morning. “Careful or you’ll give them to us.”

   “At least we’re not covered in doo doo!” Enjolras retorts, standing protectively in front of Marius.

    Mrs. Paget looks on in amusement as Fantine prepares to intervene, before Combeferre’s panicked voice draws her attention.

   Without her noticing, the spectacled child had made his way over to the bars of the pen separating the cows from tourists and, like Marius before him, was now deeply regretting this choice.

   “It’s eating me! It’s eating me, HELP!” The child flails as the cow chews thoughtfully on the bit of his red t-shirt through the pen.

   Marius immediately runs over and grabs onto his arm, trying to tug him away from the evil cow. Enjolras follows suit and grabs his other arm. Grantaire and Feuilly discard her jacket to follow suit.

   “Ow, that hurts! Ow!"

  “Oh, pretty kitty!” Courfeyrac chases after the lean barn cat as though it were a toy truck. He manages to catch it by jumping on it, grinning like a demon while he has the poor creature in his arms. Fantine, busy with the chaos of the other boys, can do nothing as a sudden cry pierces through the stable.

   “OW!” Courfeyrac howls, clutching his right arm tightly as blood rushes through his tiny figures. “I’m dying. The cat killed me!” He bursts into tears.

   Fantine and Mrs. Paget both rush over to the sobbing child as the rest of the boys finally pull Combeferre free, tearing his shirt in the process. Enjolras observes Courfeyrac and the cooing women with a shake of his head.

  “Black, the fur of angry cats.”

 

\---

 

   After bandaging Courfeyrac up and cleaning Feuilly and Grantaire off as best they can, Fantine’s group next makes its way to another stable, where the horses snort and stomp their feet impatiently, much to the dismay of Feuilly who desperately hugs Fantine’s legs in fright. Grantaire, Courfeyrac, and Combeferre stand the closet to the front, well within Fantine’s line of sight. Grantaire is currently chewing on a piece of straw that Fantine, with Feuilly still attached to her, attempts to dislodge. Her bad luck streak continues, and she eventually gives up so as not to disrupt their tour guide further. Grantaire, of course, is still smirking.

    Mrs. Paget is talking about plants and crops but Marius doesn’t hear her as Enjolras, taking advantage of Fantine’s distraction, pulls him away from the rest of the group as much as he dares. Stopping by the stall closest to the group, yet still far away not to be heard, Marius hangs on his every word.

   “Those animals need to be freed,” Enjolras points to a black stallion in the right corner. “Do you hear the horses neigh?”

   “Yes?” Marius glances towards the animal that looms like a giant from one of his story books at home.

  “They are neighing because they is being oppressed,” he says with all the conviction of a five year old justified in sneaking a treat from the cookie jar. “We need to free them.”

  “But how?” Marius asks, just as a gigantic, tan dog that looks exactly like Scooby Doo bounds towards them from the entrance of the stables.

  Enjolras looks at the dog with widened eyes, a slow grin forming on his face to render him even more cherubic than before.

 

\---

 

    Fantine finally allows herself to breathe again. Grantaire, Feuilly, Courfeyrac, and Combeferre are all settled by her feet, listening intently to Mrs. Paget’s tale about the sometimes haunted hay.

  “Wait,” Mrs. Paget pauses her tale to cast a concerned glance at Fantine. “Didn’t you have two more boys with you?”

  Fantine feels the color drain from her face as Marius’ high-pitched squeaking from behind forces her to turn around.

  A top of Mrs. Paget’s Great Dane, Marius barely maintains a hold on his blue collar as the dog gallops into the room, Enjolras’ infamous jacket flag hanging from his other hand by his side.

  Enjolras himself follows behind the imminent disaster, his tiny fist raised high in the air.

  “For freedom!”

   Mrs. Paget’s dog skids to a halt just before his mistress, propelling Marius forward into the air much to the amusement of his peers (“Look, Marius is flying!” “I wanna fly too!”). The previously calm group jumps up to rush over to their fallen friend, all excited giggles.

  Enjolras marches forward entirely too pleased with himself.

  And as Fantine hurries over herself to the bruised child, she promises herself that she is demanding a goddamn raise as soon as they return to school.


	4. Nap Time: The Sequel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Enjolras and Combeferre fight for the right for no naps, Cosette and Eponine initiate a new member into the class, everyone else is just adorable, and the child least expected becomes the last one standing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Les Miserables. This was written for recreational purposes only.

“I have come to nap with you.” 

Little Marius, clutching his favorite raggedy teddy bear from the toy chest, approaches Courfeyrac with caution on the nap mats. With his heavily drooping eyes and constant blinking, Marius looks as worn as the torn bear held tightly against his tiny chest. He chews on his lip and keeps looking away from the other boy, as if expecting only rejection.

“Yay!” Courfeyrac grins, pulling Marius forward by the hand into an all-encompassing embrace in the way only tiny children can. Marius squeaks before hugging him back, the stuffed animal squashed between them. They wear matching grins as they tug their mats together. With the beloved teddy still caught between them, they lay down, curling up together as they fall into a peaceful slumber.

Fantine can’t help but smile at the sight. Javert, over in his corner by the arts supplies, also smiles, though it’s more of a grimace of relief than anything else. Still, Fantine thinks, she’ll have to put this moment to use for blackmail purposes in the future.

Elsewhere, Valjean is trying to pry apart Grantaire and Bahorel, who are currently clawing at each other like a pair of enraged kittens submerged in bath water. Fantine pinches the bridge of her nose as she starts to make her way over to the chaos.

“But it’s no fair! That’s my bottle!” Bahorel stamps his foot as he aims his tiny fingers for Grantaire’s nose. Restrained by Valjean’s left arm, he only manages to scratch at the air.

“It didn’t have your name on it, did it?” Grantaire, held by Valjean’s other arm, sticks his tongue out at the other boy through a snide smirk.

“Actually, it does have his name on it, Grantaire.” Fantine intervenes, coming over and grabbing Grantaire from Valjean. “It’s naptime, now, come on boys.”

Fantine throws a now thrashing Grantaire over her shoulder as Valjean leads Bahorel over to a nap mat in the opposite side of the room. Fantine waits a few minutes, allowing the flailing child in her arms to pound against her back, his tiny fists falling like pebbles against her.

Grantaire’s movements gradually cease until the boy merely huffs like a deflating balloon animal. Fantine smiles to herself as she carries him over to the mats and lays him down next to a currently resting Feuilly.

“I’m not tired.” Grantaire yawns as he curls into himself on the mat.

“Even still, it’s time to rest Grantaire.” Fantine says, trying not to smile as the boy’s eyes flutter.

“I’m not! You’ll see. I’m gonna show you. I’m ready to fight like twenty armies and I won’t give…”

Grantaire falls asleep before he can complete his protest. Fantine moves away from him, exhaling in relief.

Valjean catches her eye with a thumbs up as he watches over a now resting Bahorel beside Bossuet and Joly. Javert, next to him, seems engrossed in an intense debate with little Combeferre.

“But it’s no fair to make everyone nap if not everyone is tired!” Combeferre pouts, arms flailing wildly as he argues his point.

“Such is life.” Javert retorts, moving in closer as Combeferre leaps further out of his grasp. “Besides, you have comfortable mats and apple juice to look forward to after. What more could you want?"

Combeferre pauses for a moment, hand under his chin as he contemplates such a question.

“To be free!” He nods sagely, jutting out his chin, clearly goading Javert.

Javert takes advantage of Combeferre’s momentary stillness to lift him by the waist and carry him in the direction of Bahorel, Bossuet, and Joly.

“Smartest little ass - ” Javert falters as he meets Fantine’s scolding gaze. “assistant to mischief I ever did see.”

Combeferre does not physically struggle against Javert, but he does not cease talking. Fantine starts to walk over to Javert out of pity when a burst of high-pitched laughter from near the toy chest in the center of the room catches her attention.

The newest student, Musichetta, a beautiful young girl with olive skin and curly, black hair, sits encircled by Cosette, Eponine, and Azelma. All three have their hands in Musichetta’s lovely hair, twirling it in turns between them. They giggle over whispers as they occasionally glance in the direction of the sleeping boys. Currently, Marius and Courfeyrac are the focus of their amusement.

“Girls!” Fantine sighs at the quartet of young girls as they giggle and point. “It’s nap time. Cosette, you know better.”

“But mama,” Cosette pleads, “we’re not done braiding ‘Chetta’s hair!”

“Yes, please Ms. Fantine!” Azelma pouts in time with Eponine and Cosette, along with Musichetta who looks up at her with hopeful eyes. Fantine cannot help but smile at them even as she sighs.

“Alright, five minutes.” Fantine nods as all four girls cheer in delight. “But that’s it.”

“Ms. Fantine, that’s no fair. That’s favor- favor- itsism!”

Enjolras stands at her feet with his arms crossed in front of his chest and a pout to rival Marius’ on his lips. But of course he is.

“No, Enjolras. That’s the reward for students who listen to their teachers and don’t scribble on the walls in black crayon.” Fantine tries not to acknowledge the twinge of guilt that suggests a six year old is right.

“I was making art. You told us to make art!” Enjolras’ bottom lip trembles the more passionate he becomes in his speech. Fantine feels the stirrings of a tantrum deep in her bones.

“‘Freedom, friends, and cookies’ scrawled on the wall doesn’t count as art, Enjolras.” Fantine keeps her voice at a steady level as she kneels to look the young boy in the eye. “You know writing on school property is against the rules. Now come. It’s time to nap.”

“I don’t wanna.” Enjolras glares at her as though she were the devil himself. “You can’t make me! I have rights!”

Fantine chews on her lip to keep from outright laughing even as much as she wants to take the impassioned boy by the shoulders and tell him it’s okay to be a child.

“Enjolras, sweetie-”

“Ew. Don’t call me that. I’m not sweet.” Enjolras huffs. “I’m a leader. I lead!”

“Enjolras, dear-”

“I’m not a deer either!”

He looks ready to burst into tears, his cheeks reddening and his lips trembling in a pout. He has all the appearance of a child too long at play and not enough rest. Fantine wants nothing more than to steer him over to the nap mats before he decides the empty chairs at the tables look prime for barricade building.

At that moment, Fantine witnesses Javert finally succeed in getting Combeferre to rest. She sees her chance to entice Enjolras and she takes it.

“Look, Enjolras!” Fantine points to the now slumbering child. “Combeferre is over there. Don’t you want to go with him? And look! There’s Joly, Bossuet, and Bahorel over there, and Marius and Courfeyrac over there, and Feuilly and Grantaire over there! Don’t you want to join your friends?”

Fantine sing-songs to him in her best Disney voice. It has gotten her out of a fair few scrapes, before, particularly when a previously irate mother commented upon how closely she resembled the princess of Genovia.

Enjolras scrunches his nose as he considers Fantine’s offer.

“Okay. I ‘cept. Only,” he adds, pointing to the four girls with determination in his gaze, “if they have to nap too!”

Fantine utters a prayer of thanks under her breath. This is the first time this year that little Enjolras has been willing to compromise on anything.

“Okay.” Fantine nods. “I promise.”

“Pinky swear!” Enjolras holds out his tiny hand with all the dignity of a diplomat.

“I pinky swear!” Fantine says as she curls her pinky around his with a grin.

Enjolras refuses to budge unless the girls join them, so Fantine holds his hand as she walks back to collect them.

“But mama!”

“We’re not finished!”

“I’m not tired!”

“You’re the worst.” Eponine sticks her tongue out at Enjolras who only smirks. “I bet you have cooties.”

“I don’t have cooties because I’m not a girl!” Enjolras sticks his tongue out right back.

“You do too! You’re always wearing red, and red gives people cooties because it’s the ugliest color!” Eponine retorts, hands clenching into fists by her side.

“Enjolras, Eponine! That’s enough, or you’ll both be in the time out corner after nap time.” Fantine warns them firmly, though she never raises her voice. She’s stern enough, however, to ensure that the mischief between her pupils comes to an end.

Though they both fume, neither Enjolras nor Eponine say anything more as they reach the mats, parting ways with only a mutual look of loathing exchanged.

Cosette pulls Eponine next to her, who in turn grabs Azelma to snuggle by her side. Musichetta hesitates before Cosette pulls her down in on her other side. They form a makeshift cuddle pile, at which Fantine, favoritism be damned, cannot help but grin.

She keeps a close watch on Enjolras he moves his mat to be near Combeferre. Valjean and Javert come up behind her as he at last lays his head down on the mat.

“Is that everyone then?” Javert whispers as the last of the gathered children fade into sleep.

“I feel like we’re missing one.” Valjean replies, scratching his chin as he silently counts all of the occupied mats. They all begin to scan over the multitude of slumbering heads before realization makes Fantine pivot.

“Oh damn it!” Fantine clamps her hand down on her mouth before she lets anything else slip.

Alone and unnoticed amid the chaos of his friends and fellow students, Jehan sits happily by the wall near the break room, purple Sharpie in hand as he draws flowers on the wall.


End file.
